Finding An Imperial Affliction
by RainyDay12
Summary: How did our Hazel Grace find An Imperial Affliction? Who else might enjoy this book? Set a year before The Fault in our Stars. Somehow that's 1987. One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there, lovely reader. I've always been curious about how Hazel found _An Imperial Affliction_ in the first place, so I thought hard about who I wanted to introduce her to it. I asked a friend of mine if she would read a Fault in Our Stars/Eleanor & Park crossover, and this was born! I own none of these characters, they belong to either the awesome John Green or the beautiful Rainbow Rowell. The Guardian of Oz (hehe) for pre-reading and SunnyDay64 for editing. Happy reading!**

**Finding an Imperial Affliction**

I inhale the rich, heady scent of used books. Even with lungs that suck at being lungs that was a breath worth taking. I don't know how many I have left.

There's an older woman, maybe in her late sixties, sitting at a cluttered desk, engrossed in a thick novel. She glances up as I approach. She takes in my oxygen tank and the nubs in my nose with…Nothing. Not pity. Not fear. Nothing.

"Hello there," she rasps as I reach the desk. "You look like you enjoy a good book." She couldn't be more right. In my current condition, books have become my best friends. In fact, I asked my parents to take me here as their only present to me for my 15th birthday. We'll buy you anything you want," my mother had said. "Actually, just give me the money for one book," I had said. After the inevitable question of _why?_ I answered with this: "You're teaching me to choose. I can only buy one book, so it has to be special." They couldn't argue with that. A+ for teenager logic.

So to the woman in front of me, I answer, "Yeah. I do."

"What's your name, girl?"

"Hazel," I reply. "Hazel Lancaster."

"How old are you, Hazel Lancaster?"

"15." I blush a little. "15 today, actually."

"Well, Hazel Lancaster who is 15 today, I have some advice for you." I'm a little weary. Who is this woman, who just met me, to be offering me life advice?

"Actually, I was just-"

"People are not as they seem." She ignores me. "Never have been, never will be. So make sure you know the people you want to love are real under that façade, and haven't torn themselves apart trying to create it." With that, she stares straight back down at her book again, as if she never spoke in the first place.

"Okay," I mutter, kind of freaked out. It's not every day that I get life-advice form an ancient woman running a used-book store.

I wander over to a small corner, the shelves overflowing with well-loved books. Turning, I spot a larger redhead girl sitting on the floor. She's pretty, if a little chubby. Gorgeous hair, sparkling brown eyes, and pink cheeks of those with well, oxygenated blood. She has her back to me, reading one of the old books.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask, stepping up beside her. I'm not a social person, but I kind of want to know if the lady at the desk provided her with unrequited advice, too.

"Hmm," she grunts. _Okay,_ I think. _Don't push it._ I turn back towards the shelves.

I flip through everything for 10, 15 minutes. I'm checking out a collector's addition of _Diary of a Young Girl_-one of my favorites- when I hear the other girl sniffle. She sits up straighter, realizing that she actually made a noise, then awkwardly returns to her book.

"Is that a good one?" I ask casually, attempting once again to break the ice.

"Um…yeah." She answers distractedly, still lost in the pages. Ice not broken.

"What's it called?" I'm usually not the girl to bother someone on the middle of a good book, but I could really use a recommendation. The girl turns around, finally giving up on trying to read. "I'm Hazel, by the way."_ The girl who you'll soon complain to your friends about, the girl who wouldn't let you read._ I extend my hand to her, and she takes it gingerly, giving it a small shake. _My social experiment is not going well._

"_An Imperial Affliction,_" she answers, holding it up for me to see. "And I'm Eleanor." She has a soft voice, almost afraid to speak.

"Nice to meet you, Eleanor." This girl is Kaitlyn's opposite. "What's it about?"

She takes a deep breath, looking me up and down, as if scared to answer the question. Scared of how I'll react. Maybe imagining me bashing her face in with the oxygen tank, anger at her answer forcing me to lash out. "Cancer," she squeaks.

Suddenly my interest fades. I deflate like a balloon, about to turn back to the shelf and go buy that copy of _Diary of a Young Girl_. "Oh." I deadpan. "Well, cool. Enjoy." I start to turn away from this girl and her book about cancer.

"And a girl. And trying to cure cholera. And Sisyphus the hamster." She adds quickly. I can hear the smile on her face during the last part.

"Nothing about curing cancer?" I ask slyly.

"Nope."

"Well Eleanor, I will read this book about and girl and trying to cure cholera instead of cancer and Sisyphus the hamster. That's wonderful, by the way. Any other recommendations?"

Her face lights up, like she's been waiting for me to ask that all along.

"The Smiths."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello there, lovely reader! Okay , so I lied. I said one chapter, but here we are. Thanks you shards-of darkness for your glowing review and suggestion. I did this for you!;) Thanks to SunnyDay64 for pre-reading and just being awesome. _How Soon Is Now? _belongs to The Smiths, and I still don't own anything else. You could imagine if I did...Enjoy!**

**Happy Reading!**

Augustus's POV

"Okay, Dad," I reply, sighing internally. "I'll go shoot some hoops. Be back around seven. See ya."

I love my dad, but basketball? Not my thing. Most sixteen-year-old boys relish the idea of heading down to the neighborhood court, showing off their skills and their bare chests. To me, the whole game seems empty, pointless. But disappointing my dad is the last thing I want to do. Hell will freeze over before I'm the reason for even more of his tears.

So I walk the five blocks to the court, earbuds firmly implanted in my ears, awkwardly cradling the bright sphere under my arm. Walking still feels funny, my prosthetic leg heavy and strange.

I reach the park and it appears to be empty. The wind blows some of the amber-colored leaves around, clouds block out the distant Sun. It looks almost eerie, matching my bleak mood. Augustus Waters is hardly ever in a bleak mood, but today feels strangely tedious. Maybe it's my new leg. I guess losing then gaining a crucial body part can make a person a little moody. But it can only get better from here. I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up.

The basketball hoop itself is bright red, and someone has taken it upon themselves to slap a big, smiley-face sticker on the backboard. I lift the basketball, aim for the left eye, and shoot. The ball swishes through the frayed net.

Another thing about basketball I detest-it has always come easily for me. I sigh. Falling into the endless cycle, throw, catch, throw, catch, I let my mind wander.

Storm troopers.

_Swish._

Dinner.

Swish_. _

Music.

I tune into the song playing on my iPod. It's _Crying,_ by my favorite band, The Hectic Glow.

_**Crying tears of heaven,**_

_** For the god you gave to me.**_

_** You are crying tears of perfection,**_

_** Please don't change yourself for me.**_

The song ends. I've listened to the album once since I got here, so I decide to flip to a random radio channel. It's an oldies station, and they're playing The Smiths.

_**I am the Son,**_

_** And the heir, **_

_** Of a shyness **_

_**That is criminally vulgar.**_

_** I am the Son,**_

_**And the heir,**_

_**Of nothing in particular.**_

How Soon is Now? My mom used to dance around the kitchen, cooking dinner and singing this song. How Soon is Now? What a loaded question.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp yelp, louder than the music that's blasting directly into my skull. I look up and out, spotting an Asian boy-about my age, medium height, wearing almost all black- lying on the concrete directly under the basketball hoop.

I yank out the ear buds and stuff them into the pocket of my jeans as t run towards him.

Kneeling, I ask, "What happened, are you okay?"

The boy groans in response. I notice the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead, my forgotten basketball rolling away in a very incriminating manner…

"Oh. I am so sorry. Look, I didn't mean to-," I begin, but he interrupts me.

"It's okay. I'm fine. It was an accident, after all. I just heard you singing and…," he trails off, embarrassed.

Well, I unintentionally lured him in with my beautiful singing voice, and then unmeaningly gave him a possible concussion with my careless practice of a sport I dislike. How heroic of me.

"Let's get you to a bench. I'm Augustus, by the way." I extend my hand.

He takes it. "Park."

I use our clasped hands to haul poor injured Park to his feet. He grunts a little, and then makes his way to the wooden bench just in front of the little cluster of trees. I follow suit, retrieving the offending basketball on the way.

"So are you going to make it home alright, or do you need to call someone?" The swelling goose egg on his forehead concerns me. A possible concussion and a darkening sky are not a great combination.

"I'll be fine," he repeats.

We sit in awkward silence for a moment. Once he acknowledges the fact that I'm not going to leave right away, he says, "So, you like The Smiths?"

"Yeah," I answer. "My mom likes the older stuff. I grew up on Bush and vintage Pearl Jam." He looks confused for a second, then nods, as if remembering something.

"And basketball too, eh? You're pretty good." He leans back, trying to get comfortable. "I play a bit myself."

"Well, kind of." I answer tentatively. I'm not quite sure if I should share my innermost thoughts and emotions with a perfect stranger. When in doubt. "It's complicated." I settle for lifting the leg of my jeans, giving him a peek of the artificial leg.

Park shrugs, understanding.

"Ever read _The Price of Dawn?"_

**A/N: (Part Two) Lyrics to the Hectic Glow song are by me, I just made them up.**


End file.
